Author's Notes: I'm sorry it took so long for me to write this one. The last month has been hectic and pretty rough. First I got laid off my job, then got two job applications turned down. I found out then that a certain incident from when I was sixteen, which should have been cleared from my record when I turned eighteen, was still showing up on my criminal background searches. Currently, we're trying to find some legal counseling for that. Then the worst of them all happened: one of my best friends, a guy I've known for seventeen years, was hospitalized from drug overdose, and he doesn't show any signs of having learned a lesson from that fiasco. Yeah, so the last month had some stressful times.

Chapter Eight: The Nightmare Begins…

Raedyn finally arrived in Bamora late at night. After spending the night in his usual bed at the South Wall Corner Club, he met Caius in his house and started his debriefing. After he was done, Caius was quiet for a few minutes, digesting this information. "It will take some time and careful planning for Mehra Milo to get you the information the Ashlanders seek. It may take several days."

In his chair, he reached under his mattress and pulled out a piece of paper with coded Imperial writing. "In the mean time…I have a job that might require your attention." He put down the paper, and hesitantly looked at Raedyn across the table. "This is a serious task, one you should think about before undertaking, so listen well."

Raedyn nodded for him to continue, sitting straighter in his chair. "We've received reports of a Sixth House base in a cave called 'Ilunibi' near Gnaar Mok, run by a beast-man called Dagoth Gares, if I understand it correctly. The Legion at Fort Buckmoth has already sent a garrison into the place, and apparently only one returned before dying. I want you to go to Fort Buckmoth and talk to Champion Raesa Pullia there about this matter. You don't have to worry about discreetness, she knows me. I already told her I would send someone to investigate this.

"I want you to learn about this 'Ilunibi' cave, and take whatever measures you deem necessary to fulfill the mission's objectives." He looked at Raedyn, more serious than he ever looked before, "The mission objectives are as follows: infiltrate the Sixth House base, acquire whatever information you can find detailing shipping, resources, number of followers, or other Sixth House bases, and assassinate Dagoth Gares."

Raedyn didn't say anything for a minute, just looked at the table separating them. This is a serious mission. He thought. It would be very difficult indeed; unknown enemy numbers and strength, he would be engaging them on their own terms, and he had virtually no experience in this sort of subterfuge. Strangely, the thing that bothered him the most was the assassination part, and the fact that there would likely be a lot of killing to get to him.

The thought of killing sent chills down his spine and knots in his stomach, and filled him with a dread and despair that knew all too well. It was exactly the same as what he felt in the Imperial Prison for all those years. "Caius…" Raedyn asked, hesitantly, "…is Gares the only necessary death?"

It only took a moment for Caius to answer, "You don't want to kill, do you?" So he wasn't as subtle as he thought he was.

Raedyn sighed, but still tried to act tough, "I just don't want to fight a hundred Sleepers. I'm a messiah, not a daedra."

Caius smiled, knowingly. "If you say so. As for your question, no, Gares is the only necessary death. In fact, it may be a good idea to kill him and leave a few followers alive. If any of them know where other bases are, we can send scouts to track them after they flee."

The old man got up then, and grabbed a pouch from the chest at the foot of the bed. "Here're fifteen hundred drakes," he handed the gold to Raedyn, then continued in a curt tone, "and some advice: if you have a problem with killing, consider doing something about it. Information gathering is far from the only duty we have in the Blades. And consider this, especially: if you fulfill the Prophesies, do you believe you can do it without killing? If you are the Nerevarine, then Talos help us, there will be blood and death before the end."

Raedyn tried hard not to let the Imperial's words affect him. "But why me, anyways? This seems more like a job for the elite."

"Part of it is convenience, part of it necessity." Caius answered. "You have, on numerous occasions, shown adequate combat skills, such as when you beat that Ordinator without a weapon, and you have demonstrated intelligence and stratagems when faced with that Morag Tong assassin. Those are the skills necessary, the only thing you lack is experience, which you won't get without missions like this. You need to acquire this experience; as well as lose this hesitation to kill you seem to have."

"That's none of your business." Raedyn stated, anger starting to stir within him.

"Your abilities and disabilities are my business, Otheril!" Caius retorted. There was no anger in his voice, only strict authority. "Your reasons are your own business, but for the sake of the Blades, this mission, and your own well being, you need to learn to push them aside."

Raedyn fixed the Imperial with a glare, one that didn't faze the old man in any visible way. He was angry; partially due to the Caius' audacity, but mostly, and he didn't want to admit it, because he knew the old man had a point.

He sighed. "Give me some time to think about it."

"You have until tomorrow." Caius answered, before sitting down at the table and began reading new reports.

Taking Caius's unspoken cue, Raedyn stood up, and walked out of the old man's house.

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Raedyn spent the rest of the morning wandering Balmora, thinking, trying to clear his mind, trying not to think. He knew Caius had a point, he had been given the easy assignments so far, but his pride kept telling him that the man had been wrong in some way, wronged him in some way, was expecting too much of him or was being unfair. He knew he was just trying to justify his anger to cover up his fear.

By midday, he walked into the Mages Guild to see if there was anything that needed doing. When he found only jobs that would take several days to complete, days he didn't have, he walked out and left the city. He made his way south, along the small mountain range, (or would they be considered large hills?) fighting off whatever critters he found.

Cave rats, scuttles, nix-hounds, kwama foragers, anything that came toward him met a swift end. Along the way, he knew he would need more than combat skills against something like a Sixth House base. He unlatched his shield and tied it around his torso, conjured up a dagger in his left hand, and started practicing with it in hand as if it were a main-gauche.

Yeah right, he thought, maybe if someone managed to break my shield. He called off the dagger, and put his shield back on. He realized he was short of breath after those light exercises. He was really out of shape. Back in Cyrodiil, he could outrun the typical guard, but after been locked in a small cell for seven years, long walks or short dashes exhausted him.

Sheathing his sword, he started sprinting a hundred feet, then walking a hundred, and repeated the process. He found the bridge over the Odai River, and crossed it. He continued switching from sprinting to walking, never letting himself fully catch his breath. He continued to fight whatever creatures thought he looked tasty, the larger ones often leaving him so short of breath it hurt.

Within an hour, he found the hills bordering the Foyada Mamaea. He found the most level path, which was still very steep, and ran up it, the excursion burning his lung and thighs, bringing tears to his eyes. When he finally got to the bottom of the Foyada, he continued to move north, making his way to the path leading around Fort Moonmoth and back to Balmora.

It was sunset when he got back, and the exercise helped burn away the bad mood. He knew why he was angry. Before he found out why he had been sent to Vvardenfell, he started to become content with life there, before the news of this 'destiny' turned the world upside down. Now, the ones who helped him find a semi-comfortable life were asking him to risk his life for something that seemed so…trivial.

The Sixth House, the Tribunal, the Nerevarine Prophesies, he wanted to think of them as trivial; just something he could whisk to the side and ignore. He laughed when he realized this: he really hadn't changed. He still wanted to run from his problems, not try to solve them.

Suddenly, an urge came over him. He made his way over to uptown Balmora. He went into one of the guard towers, and asked the Mer inside if he could go on the roof. When he was given permission, he found himself with an incredible view of Balmora. Under the moonlight, it looked so peaceful, the soft undulating reflections of the river, the glow from torches so small they looked like candles from there. He wished he could stay right there, separated, observing, alone, with nothing else he needed to do or nowhere else he needed to go.

Again, he was running from his problems. And he knew the true problem; it was not just the fear of death, but the fear of killing. Seven years behind bars could etch the notes even into ebony. It was like a concert, the dripping of water: the orchestra, the rustling of irons and chains: the band, the threats and insults of the wardens: the chorus, the screams of the tortured: the crescendo, all in a never ending, omnipresent symphony repeating the same litany: Kill and Thou Shalt Suffer.

It was little wonder he had a problem with taking another's life. And how could Caius understand that? He wasn't there! He didn't endure those seven years of bad water, moldy bread, ever present bodily wastes and nightly beatings. What in Oblivion gave him the right to judge him, to tell him to straighten himself out?

Because he is right. He knew that, as much as he hated it. Only death awaited him if he stayed put, and the only hope he had was to move forward, and he knew that too. This reluctance to kill, his reluctance to make progress in his life, was holding him back and causing far more problems than they solved, he knew that all too well, and he knew the only way he was going to overcome such problems was to face them. He also knew that this operation was very important, not only for the prophesies and the stability of the area to stop a civil war that could kill half of Morrowind, but now, it was important for him as well.

He sighed. Gods damn that Imperial bastard, why did he always have to be right?

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Walking out of the rain, Farens Dren made his way intently, his gait and visage that of death, into the Arena Canton's waistworks. Several patrons and denizens moved to give him passage, some out of politeness, some to avoid touching one soaked as he was, while some yet noticed the atmosphere the pervaded his appearance. He looked at nothing except where he went, he moved for no one, not even slowing down if someone was in front of him.

One of the occupants of the waistworks, a large Nord, didn't notice the gloomy Dunmer until he walked right into him, knocking him over without even being slowed down in his bee-line to the storage rooms. Moments later, an armored hand grabbed his arm in a vise-grip.

"What was the meaning of that?" Farens turned his head to look the Ordinator in the eyes through that golden, laminated helmet. "Apologize to that man or I will charge you with assault!"

His patience spent, Farens conjured the power of Illusion, and through the arm the impudent sap was grasping, cast his most powerful Demoralize spell. Almost instantly, the powerful hand let go, and he continued on without looking back to see what became of the Ordinator. It was not his business, it was not his problem now, and it would not become his problem unless the Dunmer under that bulky armor and its inane beauty decided to make it his problem again; in which case, the Ordinators would have one less member, and the world would have one less pest to deal with.

Making his way into the Morag Tong headquarters, Farens treated any greeting or questions with the utmost disregard until he reached the Grandmaster of the order: Eno Hlaalu. He performed his debriefing with the most emotionless voice and visage he could muster, though inside his gut churned when he explained what happened to Ra'Zhan. When he finished explaining that Otheril was gone from the Urshilaku Camp in the morning, omitting his reaction to the news, he continued, "Grandmaster, I wish to keep this mark as my own. I will not fail a second time."

Grandmaster Hlaalu, ever calm and patient, raised an eyebrow slightly at this request. "Farens, I understand that Ra'Zhan was your friend, but as the leader of a legitimate and government sanctioned organization, I cannot condone revenge."

"Sir, my emotions will have no influence over my conduct or integrity." Yet what of that Ashlander? A part of him wondered, but he quickly swept that thought aside.

"Dren, this Outlander knows you,"

"He might know of me," Farens abruptly interrupted the Grandmaster, "but he knows not what I look like." Now you resort to lies, do you? "Besides, the words of that priest in Mar Gaan were rather ambiguous. Otheril might not have known there were actually two of us." Lying more, are you? How very becoming, at least for you.

Hlaalu kept a calm gaze at the Nightblade, observing, analyzing. After several seconds, he said, "You may continue to hunt this mark, but understand that if I learn of anything suspicious, I will send word for your return. If I find the order is not fulfilled immediately, I will send for your immediate arrest, pending an evaluation. Is this understood?"

Farens bowed in a humble manner to hide his frustration. "I understand, honorable Grandmaster."

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Three days later, as evening gave way to twilight, Raedyn peered through thick ferns, observing the entrance to Ilunibi, the smugglers cave north of Gnaar Mok. After he decided accept the mission and gave the 'good news' to Caius, Raedyn arrived at Fort Buckmoth the next day and talked to the resident Champion, Raesa Pullia, about the cave. He didn't leave the fort without a sickening feeling.

"Corprus beasts? There are Corprus beasts there?" Raedyn asked, incredulous.

"Yes, accounts of the residents confirm it." Champion Pullia answered, in the privacy of her personal office, where they could talk about the mission and the Blades without fear of revealing confidential information. "The only survivor of the mission had contracted Corprus, we barely recognized him. It's a miracle he survived as long as he did before it killed him."

"Remind me to thank Caius for letting me know that little detail."

Raedyn shook his head, clearing away the memory, and fantasies of how he would 'thank' the elderly Imperial when, and if, he returned. After taking a few breaths, he steeled himself, and walked toward the wooden door.

Opening the door quickly, but gently, he swiftly entered the cave, and shut the door behind him. Instantly, the smell of rot and decay overwhelmed him. He barely managed to take control of his gag reflex. The esophagus of the cave was rimmed with bowls of gentle flames, a sharp contrast to the peat from which it ate off. Though he had never smelled it before, he knew this was the smell of death.

Raedyn slowly walked down the tunnel, keeping to the wall and carefully scuttling around the sconces, mindful of his shadow and contrast to the walls. When he reached the bottom, Raedyn spied the room from behind a pedestal, the dancing flames offering brief views of the large cavern. This room was an intersection between two different tunnels, with water covering most of the ground. There were other occasional fires, some green. That would be good; the colors of his glass armor would blend well with the walls illuminated by those flames.

Slowly, making soft footsteps, Raedyn waded into the waters. If he were discovered, it would be difficult to run. Pressing his back to one wall, the young Mer peered down one of the tunnels, and saw a fire with two Dunmer around it, eat raw, bloody meat.

Continuing to move, Raedyn made his way down the opposite tunnel, letting his fingertips scrape against the wall to know where it was, moving slowly enough to not make large ripples in the water. He continued down until the tunnel began to turn. Taking his eyes off the Dunmer, Raedyn looked where he was heading, and saw a door bordered by two large crimson cauldrons. He waded his way toward the door faster than before, until he saw what he previously assumed to be a part of the wall move, shaping into a stick-figure humanoid. It moved in front of the door, and just stared at it.

Raedyn froze. It hadn't noticed him yet. The figure could have been Dunmer, but its skin was white-gray, a cooled ash color. Whatever it was, it was in his way. He had to kill it. He had to face this.

Raedyn slowly, quietly pulled the glass long-sword out of its sheath, and made his way toward the ashen figure. As the water became shallower, the Dunmer lifted one leg out of the water to get better footing. He suddenly realized the mistake of his action as water spilled out from his greaves, making splashes that, in that silence, was deafening.

The ashen figure turned around slowly, lethargically, mere moments before Raedyn, in a panic, lunged forward and bisected it at the waist. The being's torso fell into the water, giving off no blood. At this distance, Raedyn could see its face covered by a mask made of ash.

"N'wah." A voice growled behind him.

Raedyn spun around quickly and found a Dunmer, clothed in naught but a loincloth, with a Dreugh club in hand, rushing him, overtaking the distance between them with unnatural speed.

An overhead attack, one Rithleen had drilled Raedyn in endlessly. Reflex and muscle memory took over. A small step to the side put him out of harm's reach by mere inches, then a diagonal swipe, and his sword cut the Dunmer from shoulder to hip, cutting arteries, heart, lungs, and stomach. The release of blood was immense; liters released in gushes. The pools of water Raedyn stood in all turned crimson in mere seconds.

He had forgotten how much blood there would be. He remembered then, that overcast day in Chorrol, how much blood that Imperial bled, how piercing the screams were, how frightened he became when realization of what he had done dawned on him.

But there he was, in Vvardenfell, another life taken by him. A necessity, Raedyn told himself, fighting his own pounding heart, these creatures were beyond saving. This time, no one will hurt you for it.

Turning from the two corpses, Raedyn opened the door, and followed the smell of death, knowing, from now on, he would only add to the pile.

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Raedyn knelt down, nursing his bruised ribs after finally getting the angle needed to decapitate the hunchbacked Corprus Beast. Hearing something over his own pounding heart, he saw another of those zealous followers charging him. Each kill became a little easier, the memories of the prison cell becoming duller and duller with each death.

Raedyn conjured a dagger in his hand, and threw it at the attacker; however, the Daedric Weapon stabbed itself into the Sixth House Dunmer's club.

Half out of reflex, and half out of what felt like a time honed strategy, Readyn lifted his hand, and using a telekinesis spell, drove the club into his attackers head hard enough to collapse his skull. The surviving Dunmer shook his head, half to let go of the anxiety, and half to relieve a strange sensation that had come over him. Since his first kill, his skills have skyrocketed; he had come up with strategies, used attacks he had never thought of before, and an eerie calmness had taken hold of him. Each death shook him less, yet he took no delight in it. It was almost as if someone else was taking over.

Voryn Dagoth, your minions reflect you poorly. For all your charisma, you cannot lead a powerful insurgence, can you?

Voryn? Where had that name come from? What made him think that was Dagoth's given name during the War of the First Council?

He quickly pushed aside such thoughts. Better to leave them to some other time. After a few seconds to let the ache in his side subside, Raedyn stood up, shook the blood off his sword, and continued down the cavern. The smell of decay was suffocating now, leaving him feeling slightly dizzy and buzzed. He had heard of the 'buzz' that skooma gave, and wondered, for a moment, if this was what it was like.

There were two large burning cauldrons ahead, signposts to his destination. Turning the corner, he found a strange robed being looking back at him. "Welcome, Lord Nerevar." It greeted. "Or Raedyn Otheril, as you call yourself. I am Dagoth Gares, and I welcome you to Ilunibi Shrine."

Raedyn looked around the alcove with utter casualness, a slight smirk forming on his lips. For some reason, he felt…insulted by all this. "Shrine, eh? Well, muthsera, I must say, a sewage pit fits a cult of your caliber rather well."

There was no visible reaction to the statement from Dagoth Gares, but his voice was full of anger. "You would do well to mind your tongue as my Lord offers his friendship."

Raedyn looked at him as if he were a retarded Orc trying to be witty. "Friendship?"

"My Lord told me of your coming," Gares explained, now moving out to the tunnel, where they would have space, "He gave me a message to relay to you, 'Once we were friends and brothers, Lord Nerevar, in peace and in war. Yet beneath Red Mountain you struck me down as I guarded the treasure you bound me by oath to protect. But, remembering our old friendship, I can forgive you, and raise you high in my service.'"

Raedyn scoffed as he absently pushed over a nearby ash statue with his finger tips. "Dagoth Gares, after I kill you and send your pitiful soul back to 'your Lord', tell him I'm insulted. Hiding minions in moldy caves only shows how desperate and weak he and his forces are, and that destroying him would only service to save him humiliation." Where was this anger stemming from?

Gares seemed no less perturbed then he had a minute earlier. "Nevertheless, the offer stands, and the outcome of this meeting shall be the fulcrum that tips your destiny. By taking arms against me, you take arms against my Lord. Will you raise your sword, or sheath it?"

Raedyn then shook his head and looked away, displaying his distaste and disapproval. Suddenly, he turned back and swung his sword at Dagoth Gares. He didn't expect the ash-colored priest to move out of the way almost too fast for the eye to perceive. Raedyn had to spin around and away as fast as he could to raise his shield to block the strike from those spindly, stick-like arms. The impact was like one from a Corprus Beast: he had the strength of a Gigas, and the young Dunmer found himself flying into the far wall.

Letting the pain run off him like running water, he was aware enough to move to the side to avoid Gares's fist as it rammed into the wall next to his head. Holding his shield in front of him, Raedyn rammed Gares and lifted him into the air and to the ground on his back, where he swung his sword, only to have it impact dirt.

He caught a glimpse out of the corner of his eye where Gares was, and saw he was conjuring up a spell. Acting half off of instinct, Raedyn cast the strongest reflect spell he could before the crimson orb could hit him, and bounced it back into the priest's face. Despite the attack peeling layers of flesh off his face, the attack barely stunned him, only knocking him slightly off balance, but offering all the opportunity Raedyn needed.

Rushing forward, the Dunmer swung his sword with all his might upward, swinging the volcanic glass blade between Gares's legs, splitting him all the way to his chest. "Thanks for the chat." Raedyn said a moment before ripping the blade out of his adversary, spilling green gunk across the floor.

He didn't expect the monster's next action. Gares's hand shot forward, and hit Raedyn's torso. Dark cloud blasted out from the impact, and the hand continued further until the hand was inside his chest! Fire burned across his torso and throughout every vein in his body. Muscles cramped, innards twisted, bones bent, and above all, agony consumed him.

He screamed. From the darkest pits of his soul, he screamed, as if trying to yell the pain out of his body. Above his own cries of pain, he heard Dagoth Gares talk; his voice mirthful and content, "As my master wills, you will come to him, in his flesh, and of his flesh."

Then, Gares's body turned to ash, and Raedyn doubled over in pain, his mouth open, trying to scream, but no sound came out. Suddenly he retched, spilling the packed food he had for the trip. He retched again, and again, long after there was nothing left in his stomach. On and on it went, the burning, the dry heaves, and Raedyn praying the pain would either kill him or leave.

Eons and eternities passed by, and finally, upon the brink of madness, the pain slowly, so slowly, began to subside. The pain never entirely left him, yet he lay there, panting, shaking, curled up in a fetal position, shaken to the very soul. Then something new came. Pressure built within his body. Something within him was growing. Parts of his skin and muscles stretched, as if whatever inside was trying to break out. Unable to scream, Raedyn could only groan as parts of his arms, chest, and even his face began to bulge.

He needed help. That one solitary thought was enough to conjure up the focus to perform an Almsivi's Intervention. Moments later, he found himself on the floor in front of the Balmora Temple's entrance. Pushing away the pain as best he could, he slowly managed to get himself back onto his feet. He started toward the arched exit of the Temple courtyard, but couldn't hold his balance well enough and crashed into it before sliding to the ground.

"Sera, what's wrong?" A concerned Dunmeri voice asked.

Raedyn turned his head and saw a priest walking toward him. As soon as their eyes made contact, the priest's visage turned to fright, and he backed away.

"Help me!" Raedyn pleaded, barely managing to get the words out, moving slowly toward the priest. "Help me!"

"Get away from me!" The priest yelled at him, and ran inside the Temple.

His mind was hazed and wracked from pain. He could not think why the priest would turn in fright from him. Caius, I must get to Caius. Forcing whatever strength he could muster into his legs, he made his way to the nearby stairway using walking and lurching motions. He managed a few steps on the stairs, but plummeted down the rest.

When he reached the bottom, near the river and the bridge that would take him to Caius, Raedyn was aware that he was bleeding from several open wounds. Ignoring this, and focusing solely on getting to the Spymaster, Raedyn half lumbered and half crawled to the bridge. Halfway across, he collapsed from both pain and lack of breath. With his head over the edge of the bridge, he saw his own reflection. Though his vision foggy and mind hazed, they were not too hazy to know the face reflected was not his.

Both skin and eyes were too pale, the former now a light blue and latter bore only the slightest tint of red. But beyond the color, there was the lumped yellow bulge running from his ear across his jaw to his chin. This time, tears accompanied the shaking. Corprus. I have Corprus.

Raedyn rolled over, unable to bare looking at that hideous face, and saw a dozen other faces, each looking at him as if he were Mehrunes Dagon himself. No, this wasn't happening! This couldn't be happening! Hadn't he suffered enough?

This time, rage, and pain not only in his body powered his legs as he made his way toward Caius's house. He could not recall reaching the other side of the river, he could not recall running up the steps to Caius's house, but he remembered the screams of fear as he passed people, people who no longer recognized him as anything but a monster. He remembered seeing Caius open the door for him, and look at him in shock just before he passed out.

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With a scream he lurched forward into a sitting position. Ragged breaths didn't help the burning in his chest, a burn that felt like he had run across all of Tamriel. His entire body was stiff and very sore. He had awoken from a terrible nightmare, one he no longer remembered.

Raedyn gasped as a powerful sharp pain wracked his shoulder, and when he lifted his hand to it, he found the flesh had bulged at least three inches in every direction, so much so his linen shirt had ripped. The skin was very hot and sensitive, and it felt like the muscles underneath had torn themselves apart. He couldn't move his arm.

"You're awake." A familiar Cyrodiilic accent commented. Raedyn turned his head and saw Caius on the other side of the room; a room he recognized as the small, modest one room house that was the Imperial Spymaster's home, with the Dunmer on the bed. "You've been out for two days."

Raedyn started shaking, but not from the pain or fear. The pain was coming back, and something else was happening inside his body. "Caius." Raedyn croaked.

Caius rushed over to him, and as gently as he could, put his hand on the Dunmer's shoulder and pushed him back down. "Rest. You're going to need it." He reached behind him to the pitcher on the table. "Drink this, you're likely dehydrated."

Raedyn, on his side, picked the pitcher up in unsteady hands, his body shaking so badly the water splashed over the sides. He brought it to his lips as carefully as he could, and drank, spilling much on himself and the bed. Suddenly the pitcher broke under his grip, and he was only vaguely aware of a slight pain in his palms. When he looked, he saw pieces of clay imbedded in his hands, and they were bleeding profusely.

Before Raedyn really knew what the elderly Imperial was doing, Caius had ripped up a spare sheet into strips and started wrapping up his subordinate's hands. "I'm sorry." Raedyn said.

"Don't worry about it." Caius said. Then he finished by tying them off so they wouldn't come undone, and said, "Raedyn, a lot of people saw you come to my house. Everyone in town now knows that I'm sheltering someone with Corprus."

Raedyn pulled his arms in close and scrunched his body into a fetal position. "I'm sorry. I can't do anything right, can I?" There was no anger in his melancholy voice. "And I thought things would get better when I got back, when all I did was put you in danger."

"Raedyn, I'm not blaming you!" Caius insisted, concern in his voice. "You did what you needed to do." He stood up then. "I'm going to see if I can find you some help. At the very least, I can have Nine-toes brew up an pain killer."

As soon as Caius turned around, Raedyn spoke up, his voice hoarse and pain-wracked, "You were wrong about me." He waited a few seconds as Caius turned around to look at him. "I can't be the Nerevarine. 'The-Curse-of-the-Flesh-before-him-flies', that's what Nibani Maesa said. Look," he held up his pale yellow, lump covered right arm, "I'm not immune to Corprus, like I should be."

Caius fixed him with a hard stare. "You're not dead yet, Raedyn Otheril. I didn't think you were one to give up his pride so easily." He turned and walked out of the house.

My pride? Raedyn mused. What have I ever done to take pride in?

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Caius walked past the houses of eastern Balmora at a brisk pace. He hoped his words had gotten some kind of a rise out of his subordinate; and that would, in turn, help him try to survive. He had been in many bad situations over his thirty years of service, and he had learned long ago to never give up hope. It was not born out of optimism so much as disciplined habit.

But he was no fool, he knew the chances of Raedyn surviving, his chances of staying sane if he does survive, and overall, his chances of being cured. It would be difficult to stay optimistic in this situation, but old habited die hard.

Another habit that died hard was to not take chances, to double up or triple up on everything, as the fate of an Empire was not something to gamble with. But right then, he had no choice but to take a gamble. It was a long shot, but it was all he had.

He walked down to the waterfront, and knocked on Edd Theman's door. A yell from inside told him to enter. Upon entering the domain of the former Telvanni Wizard, Caius saw the Dunmer eating at his table. "What is it now, Cosades? Can't it wait?"

"No, it can't." The elderly Imperial answered, curtly. Sometimes, one had to be forceful to get cooperation, especially with someone like Fast Eddie.

"I'm not going to help you with that beast you're hiding." He finished that sentence by stuffing a large, gravy covered piece of steak in his mouth.

"Two-hundred and fifty thousand for you to get off your ass and ask questions. Twice that much if you find something good." Caius said.

Fast Eddie stopped chewing for a few seconds in thought, then continued chewing. When he swallowed the last of it, he said, "You're really delving into the funds for this novice of yours. What's so special about him?"

He couldn't let Eddie know the truth. Being a native born, he didn't know how the wizard would take the news. "That's the difference between the Empire and the Telvanni: we don't place a price limit on life."

After a few seconds of mulling over that explanation, Fast Eddie scoffed. "Even so, I bet you wouldn't have offered so much were he not your disciple." He started cutting his steak again, preparing to consume it. "I'll leave in an hour. The best perk to the Mages Guild: I don't have to travel far to reach Telvanni territory."

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Farens Dren waved to a Morag Tong acquaintance sitting behind the Suran headquarters before approaching him. "Aubar." Farens greeted the Redguard, who was leaning nonchalantly against the wall bordering the mountain range where few residents tread.

"Farens, was it?" Aubar greeted back. Does it help that he doesn't remember you well? That little voice from before asked.

Ignoring the voice and nodding to Aubar, Farens leaned his back against the wall, mimicking the Redguard next to him. "Anyone been borrowing stuff lately?" He referred to the Morag Tong cache of artifacts, the two were leaning against the seamlessly hidden doors leading to the vault.

"Nah." Aubar answered. "Haven't seen anyone in a while. You get permission?"

"No, I'm just bored waiting for the next Silt Strider." Lying was never your forte; it was always killing, wasn't it? It's all you've ever known, and it's all you ever will. The two continued small talk for a few minutes until, as subtly as he could, he used a Telekinesis spell to move a rock behind Aubar into another rock, making a slight clicking sound. Automatically, with time honed reflexes and speed, Aubar turned his head to look.

Quickly, Farens charged a spell in his hand as the Redguard as looking away. An instant before the spell hit, Farens yelled, "Lookout!"

The red energies hit Aubar in the back, pushing him forward as it drained away his energy, leaving him fatigued to the point he was fighting to stay awake. "Aubar? Aubar!" Farens acted concerned, knowing full well the Redguard scout would succumb to sleep soon. Within three seconds, he was out cold. You're lying to yourself if you think you can rest easy without killing him.

Farens got up, and left the back of the HQ toward a large, protruding boulder. Behind it laid the dead body of an Altmer, his heart run through by Farens less than ten minutes earlier, and the Dunmer dragged him back behind the building, and put him in a position that looked like he was killed at that spot. It was a gamble, but it was one he was willing to take. It was his hope that people would assume the Altmer was the one who attacked Aubar, and that Farens killed him. He also hoped they wouldn't ask too many questions afterward, that would at least by him enough time to leave before they realized something was amiss. Why stop with the Altmer? Or is that why you're taking such a big risk? Because you want them to find you out? Is it guilt, or because you want an excuse to fight more?

Farens clenched his fists, and forced the voice out of his head. After a minute of internal silence, he took the key off of Aubar, and pushed it into what looked like a normal crack in the wall. A lever released, and the two walls swung inward, permitting access to a short stairway leading to under the Headquarters compound. There, he found several locked, trapped, and enchanted chests.

Farens quickly set to work unlocking them one-by-one. Each time he found the chest didn't have what he searched for, he carefully went about relocking them and resetting their traps, that way it would be harder for them to realize something was missing. Finally, on the fifth chest, he found it: a small silver ring with a large sapphire set on it. The slight glow of an enchantment shimmered across it.

Neither he, nor the Morag Tong, knew anything pertaining to the whereabouts of Raedyn Otheril. There were no tax records, no notices of property lease, no official vassalships, only a vague mention in a minor record found in Seyda Neen that he had been released from a certain ship. Even the name of that ship didn't show up in any records. With an information vacuum like that, there was only one way to find him: the hard way.

Gripping the ring, Farens allowed himself a smile. Otheril, you will not survive our next encounter.

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Raedyn lurched up, throwing the covers almost completely off of him in the motion, and retched over the side of the bed into a pot. His gut was twisting, his head aching, his breath was short no matter how much he panted, and the deformities put him through constant pain. He had barely gotten any sleep the last week, and all he could get out of Caius was, "We'll find something to cure you." Over the last ten days since he became infected, he could occasionally hear a small mob gathering outside the house, with Caius trying to dissuade them from exiling or lynching him.

Raedyn suddenly felt spasms all over him. No. Those spasms quickly became tremors as his entire body started shaking. No, not again! He clenched his fists and curled in on himself as he prepared for another seizure.

He felt a bulge stretch the skin on his back, as some kind of liquid pressed out and became burning hot. He knew it would stay there, become inflamed, and grow again with the next seizure. A hump that had started on his shoulder and now covered his entire left arm, his neck, and most of his upper back, began moving and rumbling. It was coming again.

The collection of liquid and gelatinous matter within the mass of growth began moving around, rearranging, pushing and pulling at the muscles underneath. Raedyn groaned as muscles were tugged and dragged along with the growths, straining them. He knew this wouldn't be the worst of it. He knew it wouldn't be over for another three hours yet.

Some muscles on his back weren't being released so easily. Some were being pulled, some were being crushed, but he knew they would be his torment tonight. Several of the muscles were being strained, and soon, something would give...

…and it was always the muscles.

Two sharp snaps resounded through the room as a wet ripping sound came from the Dunmer, drowned out by his screams of pain. Quickly, Caius threw open the door, closed it behind him, and went to his side.

More muscles started straining, and would break soon. He cold only focus on the sounds of the Imperial's voice to distract him from the pain as the attacks started to increase. Raedyn's skin was almost as pale as a Breton's, and always slick with sweat; he was constantly exhausted yet unable to sleep, he ate and drank as much as he could, only to throw it up within a couple hours. The worst he ever experienced under the lash and rack back at prison didn't compare to this.

"Raedyn! Raedyn, listen to me! Look at me!" Caius ordered.

Raedyn slowly opened his eyes, and focused on the Imperial once again. Not once in the last week-and-a-half had he left his side for more than an hour.

"Listen to me. You can survive this!" The Spymaster insisted.

"Make it stop." Raedyn pleaded, his voice shaky and weak. "Please, just make it stop."

Before Caius could say something, the Dunmer grabbed him by the shoulder as a particularly violent seizure took hold of his arm, now too large to be contained by a sleeve, as muscle, tendon, and bone snapped within it as the skin continued to stretch as matter built within it. Suddenly, the skin split, causing Raedyn to scream in pain as several liters of yellow and red puss shot out, covering Caius's arm.

The elder Imperial jerked back, knocking over the table, as if he were trying to get away from his arm. Raedyn saw this, his mind going fuzzy from the pain. He's moving away from me. Frantically, almost in a panic, Caius reached out for the towels on the other side of the room. He's afraid of me. He lifted his arm, reaching out to Caius, even though he was too far away and had his back to him as he furiously cleaned his arm. Don't go away. Please, don't leave me alone!

He seemed to continue moving away, going farther, and farther, and slowly the pain receded. Never in his life had darkness been so welcome.

Almost as soon as he passed out, Raedyn found himself covered in and surrounded by light. It was bright beyond compare, yet so soft he didn't even squint. The light receded, and he found himself standing on a knoll the size of a small mountain. For endless miles in every direction lay endless fields of green grass with the occasional flowering grove.

In front of him stood a Dunmer woman, who smiled at him. "Raedyn."

Raedyn felt tears come to his eyes. "Mother."

She reached her hand out to him. "Come with me."

Without much thought, Raedyn lifted his right arm, now absent of all deformities, growths, and pains, and gently took her hand.

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Caius sat on his favorite, if still uncomfortable, chair while catching his breath. After cleaning off that Corprus gunk from his arm, he notice Raedyn had lost consciousness, though the seizures continued. Careful as he could, he cleaned Raedyn's wounds and bandaged them up, though he would have to bring Tyermaillin in to actually heal them, as well as the snapped muscles and tendons. The Blades Journeyman was becoming more and more apprehensive about healing a Corprus victim, and he was afraid the Altmer would soon refuse to come near him.

Caius pressed a towel damp with clean water, which he used a minor Frost spell on to chill, against his head. These seizures were taking a lot out of him as well. He was responsible for Raedyn's affliction, after all. He knew he was green, and knew the assignment would push him, that it was necessary to push him. Even though Raedyn's destiny was ultimately his own, it was his duty to watch after him.

Besides that, it was difficult not to become somewhat attached to your pupil, even one as rebellious and stubborn as Raedyn. The young Mer had come a long way in the last month, and though he still was at a level most Blades would consider unacceptable, he was still proud of him.

Taking the towel off of his head, he stood up and walked over to Raedyn's sleeping form. He seemed unusually peaceful; his body wasn't shaking, and his breathing had become very shallow. Concerned, Caius pressed two fingers to his carotid artery…

…and didn't feel a pulse.

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Author's Note: OMFG, I just killed off my own character!!! OMGWTFBBQ!!11!1! Well, that's the end of this story. Yes, I kill him off to end this story. No, seriously, I haven't given up yet. Once again, I can't apologize enough for it taking so long to update. And sorry, but it'll still be a while until I get to the final climatic battle between Raedyn and Farens.

Also, I've never met Fast Eddie in the game. I know Caius says he has a house in Balmora, but I haven't found it. I ended up looking in the TES construction set to find out what race he was. I hope I wasn't completely off base with his personality.

Oh, and if anyone's a little surprised by how I decided to kill off Gares, well…the punk deserved it. Not only did he force you to go down a confusing maze cave to get to him, but you get Corprus for it, which forces another annoying quest on you. Personally, I think I let him off light.